The Consequences of Love
by PiWithApple
Summary: Prompt: Arthur sees Gwen and Lancelot kissing, he feels betrayed and seeks comfort in Merlin. They end up sleeping together. But next morning Arthur regrets it and decides to forgive Gwen and win her back. Merlin's hurt, but then he's used to it. But life has a surprise waiting for him in just nine months. Warning: Mpreg


_A/N: Written for a prompt over at the Merlin Mpreg fest on LJ. Do check it out, plenty of lovely fics and art._

_Much love to my betas Pia and Cee! This probably never would have crept across the finish line without Cee and all her wonderful support. Special thanks to Gee 3 for helping me write smut for the first time EVER._

_Also my first time writing in the Merlin fandom and I'd love to hear what you think. :) _

* * *

Arthur stumbled into his chambers, falling heavily against the door as it shut before sinking to the floor and hanging his head between his knees. He reached up to swipe at the itch that had developed on his cheek, then sharply drew his hand away when he realized his cheek was damp with…tears.

The king exhaled harshly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until it _hurt_because he would not waste tears on that heartless, adulterous—

No, not Gwen. Not _his_Gwen.

"Then explain what you just saw," he muttered bitterly to himself.

Arthur had been looking for Gwen, in dire need of company after a long, arduous day of council meetings in preparation for the hard winter ahead. He decided to seek her out himself, hoping the walk would help him be rid of the energy thrumming through him. Her melodious laugh echoed from around the corner and Arthur couldn't quite help the smile that threatened to split his face.

Breaking into a jog, Arthur rounded the corner.

It was Lancelot who came into view first, then the pale purple skirt clothing the legs wrapped around his waist, painfully familiar fingers threading through the knight's hair. Arthur felt like the air had been punched out of him and the next thing he remembered was entering his chambers.

He stood and hugged himself, trying to reel in his emotions, willing the image that had been burned into his mind to leave him in peace. Frustration welling over, he grabbed the nearest item, barely registering that it was a goblet, and threw it against the wall, screaming abuse.  
Arthur drew his sword from the sheath that hung loosely around his waist and began hacking at the posts of their bed, stabbing wildly at the mattress and pillows, releasing clouds of feathers when two guards burst through the door. "Are you alright, sire?"

Excalibur clanged to the ground and Arthur ground out, "Yes. Leave me."

"Sire, you're bleeding." One of the guards stepped forward only to receive a glare for his efforts.

"You will not breathe a word of what you saw. To _anyone_," Arthur spat, dismissing the guards.

The blond winced as he took in the destruction he had managed and almost felt bad for the amount of cleaning Merlin would have to do. Suddenly, Arthur was overcome with a burning need to find the bumbling idiot, because incompetent though he was, the servant always managed to make him laugh.

He ripped off a strip of the bed covers, wrapped it around his bleeding hand and started for Gaius' chambers.

"MERLIN!" he shouted, throwing open the door.

"Sire? Is something wrong?" Merlin replied quickly, a hint of panic in his voice as he stepped away from the bubbling pot he had been tending to.

Arthur sighed heavily, "No, Merlin. Nothing's wrong."

He had married Gwen one year ago and it wasn't until this very moment that his eyes opened to the world around him. In his pursuit of love and happiness, he had lost a dear friend. Merlin had been nothing more than his manservant for a long time now. He had referred to Arthur as 'Sire' not out of contempt, but respect, and the panic in his eyes was fear for himself. His gaze remained fixed on the ground as he fidgeted with the edge of his tunic, awaiting further instruction. Worst of all, though, was that none of this felt unfamiliar.

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and tried to remember the last time Merlin had  
remained in his presence for anything other than to carry out his duties. He recalled throwing the ever faithful manservant out of his chambers so he could spend the evening with his wife, but now the hurt in Merlin's eyes was far more prominent in his memory than that of Gwen's voice and the smell of flowers that seemed to accompany her everywhere.

"Merlin," Arthur said softly, as he reached out to place a hand on the smaller man's shoulder.

To his surprise, Merlin stepped back and raised his head ever so slightly. "I apologize for not tending to you, Sire. A bout of sweating sickness has struck the lower town and Gaius asked me to brew more of the cure, just in case. He assured me he had asked your permission, Sire, but I should have confirmed it myself. It will not happen again."

"_Mer_lin," Arthur said sharply.

"Sire?" Merlin looked up to meet his king's blue eyes.

"Arthur. My name is Arthur."

"Yes, King Arthur," Merlin said slowly, quickly running his gaze over the blond to try and discern the reason behind the change in his behavior.

Spotting the make-shift bandage, Merlin moved forward to tend to the injury but Arthur grabbed his wrist in an almost bruising grip. Merlin tried to yank his hand away but the blond's grip did not loosen in the slightest and he looked up at Arthur questioningly.

"We used to be friends, Merlin. Now you won't so much as look at me?" Arthur felt a sharp pain in his chest as he spoke. How could he not have noticed?

"Perhaps, Sire, but now you have your duties to attend to. Time spent socializing should be of some benefit to the kingdom."

"Wha—?" Arthur cried out incredulously before stopping abruptly when he realized those were his words, thrown at Merlin without so much as a thought for the younger man's feelings.

"Merlin, I am so sorry. Can you—I don't—I am so, so sorry."

"Sire, there is no need to apologize," Merlin said quickly, trying to maneuver his hand out of Arthur's. There was no way this would end well.

"STOP IT," Arthur bellowed, releasing his grip on Merlin's wrist. He threw his hands in the air in a show of exasperation but pulled away sharply when Merlin flinched. The blond barely hid his horror as he consulted his memories, trying to figure out if he had assaulted Merlin, cursing the fact that he_ just didn't know_.

"Sire, may I look at your hand? I can apply a poultice until Gaius—"

"Merlin," Arthur said pleadingly, "I need a friend, not a manservant."

"I can arrange for the Queen to be brought here."

"No! No, just… be _you_."

"I— I need to concentrate on my brewing. One of the knights, perhaps?"

"I can help," Arthur said slowly, praying he wouldn't have to endure another flinch.

Merlin was dumbstruck, and only narrowly prevented his mouth from falling open. "Of course, Sire."

Arthur sat quietly on a stool and watched Merlin, hoping the brunet would break the silence and the tension.

"Merlin, I _am_sorry," Arthur said after a long while.

"Oh for the love of— I _know_, Arthur," Merlin blurted before he could stop himself. He then braced himself for the hurtful response that was sure to come, but instead heard a short laugh that made his heart swell before he could wrestle his emotions back into control.

"I knew you were still in there somewhere, _Mer_lin," Arthur said lightly, a hint of pride in his voice.

"I was always here, Sire. You merely no longer required my presence," Merlin said quietly.

"You—you actually believe that, don't you?" Arthur's eyes widened impossibly when Merlin merely pursed his lips and continued stirring.

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, wondering how he could have allowed both his wife and his most trusted friend to slip through the cracks. Perhaps he _had_known that Gwen desired another and his desire to win her heart coupled with the weight of the kingdom upon his shoulders had blinded him to almost everything else. The king suddenly found himself angry that Merlin refused to understand his situation.

"I wanted to spend time with my wife," he said hotly, "I had just been crowned king, and I needed to carry out my duties and build relationships. I'm sorry I didn't have time to—to give you whatever it is you needed but—"

"What I needed?" Merlin choked out, horrified by Arthur's words. "I stand by your side even when every word directed at me is either an insult or an order. I follow you into battle and ignore the fact that you laugh at my every attempt at swordsmanship, claiming I'll never amount to anything, because hopefully, someday I might be able to stop a blade intended for your throat with something other than my own flesh. I did not ask for your presence today, _Sire_, and I certainly do not require it." Merlin stood and spun on his heel, and disappeared into his room. The last thing he needed was for Arthur to make fun of the tears streaming down his cheeks.

* * *

Merlin braced himself by means of his forehead against the door and allowed the tears to flow freely over his face. Previous experience had taught him that pent up emotions would demand release at the least convenient of times. And now he felt his neckerchief grow damp and heavy with salt water.

Why _had_Arthur come to him, today?

Despite spending less and less time around the king, Merlin hadn't lost his perceptiveness when it came to the blonde's emotions and today he was troubled and in pain, almost. It physically _hurt_to turn the king away in his time of need but Arthur had made it startlingly clear many times that a mere manservant was of no help in such situations.

Merlin had been rather proud of how well he had hidden the hitch in his breath when the king walked through the door and his eyes held the same depth they did before his marriage to Gwen.

His dreams of losing himself in those eyes had become but a distant memory when they gradually became cold, harsh and closed off. Merlin sometimes spent hours staring up at the sky, praying he would chance upon the same gorgeous shade of blue. Unsurprisingly, he never did.

Arthur's reactions throughout their recent encounter almost had Merlin crying with happiness, because for the first time in a very long time, the king seemed to _care_. A warmth Merlin knew to be hope pooled in his belly but it dimmed with every tear that escaped his eyes. Arthur had done this a number of times, demanding Merlin acknowledge him as a friend again, but it always ended in bitter disappointment.

Today would be no different.

* * *

A light knock sounded at the door and Merlin fell back in surprise, hitting his head hard against the edge of his bed. He grunted in pain and scrambled to his feet.

"I'll be out in a minute, Gaius," he said, steeling his voice.

However, when the door creaked open, it was Arthur who poked his head around it, not Gaius, blood rapidly leaving his face when his eyes settled upon Merlin's red and swollen ones.  
Merlin forced himself off the floor hurriedly, his breathing rapid as his mind conjured up every possible way Arthur could punish him for his outburst.

"Sire, I—I shouldn't have—I…I can leave at first light-" Merlin stammered.

Arthur frowned. "You will do nothing of the sort."

The king stepped toward his manservant and this time, Merlin allowed the invasion of space, hoping to regain some favor with Arthur. He cocked his head to one side, trying to make sense of the waves of regret that seemed to be radiating from the other man.

"I had no right to… hurt you like that, Merlin. You have been nothing but loyal to me and I am honored to have you as my manservant. And friend."

"I understand," Merlin mumbled, the king's close proximity drawing many of his fantasies to the forefront of his mind.

Arthur sighed. "You shouldn't have to. I pushed you away because of Gwen and…well, I don't think Guinevere feels the same way about me as I thought I did her."

"Sire?" Merlin said questioningly, finally lifting his head to meet the king's eyes.

"It's not important," Arthur said quietly. "You are something else, you know that, Merlin? I did nothing to stop Gwen. But you…" _I couldn't bear the thought of having hurt you. You left and I couldn't so much as __**breathe**_.

Merlin was playing with the edge of his tunic again, uncomfortable with Arthur's contemplative scrutiny. Arthur took in the flush creeping slowly up Merlin's cheeks—the manservant's eyes almost seemed darker and glazed over, but not from the tears, and his breaths were short but heavy.

Instinct took over and Arthur experimentally stroked Merlin's jaw with his thumb and locked his gaze firmly on the eyes of the man in front of him, surprised to find desire in their depths. He dropped his head and brushed his lips against the soft, full ones adorning Merlin's pale face.

Merlin stumbled back. "No."

Arthur raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"We can't do this, Arthur," Merlin began thinking of anything but the proximity between him and his king, fighting the heat gathering in his groin.

"Then explain to me, Merlin, how it is that I seem to care more for you than I do for my own wife," Arthur countered, crossing his arms.

Merlin stared, dumbfounded.

"Tell me you don't want this," Arthur said softly before subtly eyeing the bulge in Merlin's breeches.

Later, Merlin would rack his brain and fail spectacularly at finding an explanation for his next words.

"I can't." He replied, tiredly.

"Can't what, Merlin?" Arthur's voice had become impossibly deeper.

The king ran a hand lightly along Merlin's side, drawing a shiver from the small frame. The grief that had been clouding his mind was suddenly gone. No one had ever looked at him with such desire and it was intoxicating. He had to feel it, _taste_ it… _surround_himself with it.

"Can't…Arthur, I—" Merlin's mind stopped supplying him with words, unable to focus on anything other than the strong form before him.

Arthur caught Merlin's face between his hands and leaned in until his nose brushed Merlin's. "Yes?"

Merlin's heart was racing and almost as though in need of confirming what was about to happen, he whispered, "Arthur."

The sound of his name drove Arthur to crush his lips against Merlin's, their tongues dueling for dominance before Merlin gave in, moaning heavily. He dropped his head further, flicking his tongue out and licking a broad stripe along the smaller man's throat, drawing in the salty, almost earthy flavor. In a sudden urge to mark the untarnished skin, Arthur clamped his teeth down and sucked hard, coaxing a bruise to the surface.

Merlin groaned wantonly and moved his arms to encircle Arthur's waist, pulling them closer together and rocking against Arthur's painfully hard erection. The sensation was almost too much for Arthur and he growled deep in his throat, before lifting Merlin with ease and throwing him down on the sorry excuse for a bed.

He all but tore Merlin's tunic off and cursed under his breath as he tried to undo the brunet's breeches. Merlin whined and swatted away Arthur's fumbling fingers, broke the rope holding up the offending garment and pulled it down, releasing his cock. Arthur drew in a breath at the sight, Merlin's cock an angry red, curled towards his stomach, pre-come pooling in his navel.

Arthur averted his eyes and sucked in more deep breaths, in an effort to stop himself from coming—the glorious image before him was more than enough to send him over the edge.

Arthur spoke breathily, "Salve?"

"Huh?" Merlin said, unintelligently.

"Salve, Merlin. I don't want to hurt you."

Merlin's glazed eyes drew into focus for a moment, pointing vaguely. "Oil. There."

Mercifully, Arthur found it quickly and coated three fingers liberally. "It might hurt at first, but I promise it gets better."

"Get on with it already!" Merlin barked. The servant only had a vague idea of what was about to happen, gathered from the whispers of stable boys and most prominent in his memories was the fact that it _hurt_. He wouldn't allow Arthur to slow down, though, because that would give the king an opportunity to change his mind and Merlin had wanted this for far too long to scramble away because it might feel like he was being 'ripped in two' as one of them so eloquently put it.

Arthur gently circled Merlin's puckered hole, teasing the entrance slightly at the same time as he lightly massaged the man's flat stomach. When he finally breached the tight ring of muscle, he inched his finger in and listened closely for sounds of distress from Merlin, whose breathing had become significantly labored.

"Okay?" Arthur asked softly.

"Feels… weird," Merlin answered eventually.  
Arthur remained as he was, murmuring quietly to Merlin as he adjusted to the sensation. Then wriggling his finger slightly, he pushed all the way in and began pumping in and out.

"I'm going to try two now, just breathe. You're doing great," Arthur coaxed, once Merlin's breathing evened.

Merlin clenched his eyes shut and tried to stuff a fist in his mouth, preventing whimpers from escaping. The painful expression caused Arthur's heart to jolt in sympathy and he paused in his ministrations to stretch over and kiss Merlin deeply. Having calmed Merlin somewhat,

Arthur began scissoring his fingers ever so slightly, licking his lips in anticipation of feeling the now-glistening hole tighten around him. Arthur probed around, searching for the spot that never failed to incite pleasure and rubbed it lightly. Merlin's back arched up off the bed as a throaty moan was drawn from him.

The moan quickly turned to cry as Arthur inched a third finger in as slowly as possible, ignoring his own urge to plunge into Merlin immediately in favor of not hurting him. The king leaned forward and ran his tongue across the underside of Merlin's cock, gently massaging the protruding vein. He pressed a kiss to the head of the engorged prick and drew it into his mouth, sucking gently.

Merlin bit down hard on his lip, preventing a scream from escaping when the wet heat of Arthur's mouth engulfed his cock, his discomfort momentarily forgotten. Tangling his hands in  
the king's blond hair, Merlin closed his eyes, afraid that if he opened them again, he'd see someone else pleasuring him.

Arthur kept up a steady rhythm with his fingers, making sure to brush the sensitive spot inside Merlin each time he inserted his fingers. He drew his mouth to the very tip of Merlin's prick and dipped his tongue into the slit, drawing a howl of pleasure from Merlin. He then lowered his head once more, relaxing his throat to accommodate Merlin's length and hummed, the vibrations running through Merlin's cock. Merlin only managed to tighten his grip on Arthur's hair as a warning and then he was coming, long and hard.

Arthur swallowed every last drop of Merlin's come, and moved up to straddle the lithe form beneath him before kissing him, licking into his mouth. The taste of blood mingled with semen and Arthur pulled away, frowning. He spotted the teeth marks on Merlin's once unblemished lip and pulled it into his mouth, sucking gently.

"Alright?" Arthur asked, pulling away.

"Yeah. Want this, Arthur," Merlin gasped, eyes fluttering open. "Want _you_."

Arthur's breath hitched a little—hearing those words from Merlin—and wasted no time coating his painfully hard cock with the oil that smelled faintly of lavender and tried to maneuver Merlin onto his stomach but the other man froze.

"It'll be easier if you're on your knees," Arthur reasoned.

"No, I want to see you," Merlin said firmly.

Arthur nodded and pulled a pillow out from beneath Merlin's head and placed it under his hips, raising them slightly. He bent Merlin's legs at the knee and spread them, before placing the head of his cock at the slightly swollen entrance and pressing forward gently.

Merlin harshly blew out a breath and his eyes began to water as a searing pain erupted at his entrance. "A-Arthur, stop!"

Arthur pulled away immediately and waited for Merlin to regain control of his breathing before he spoke, "I'm sorry. Do you want to keep going?"

"Yes," Merlin said shakily, "Arthur, I want this."

Arthur eyed Merlin warily, slight tremors running through him in anticipation of the pain that was to come.

"We'll go slow, it gets better." Arthur slipped his hands under Merlin, massaging his lower back to release the tension that had built.

Merlin bucked upwards when Arthur slipped a finger back inside him. "No, no more. I'm ready."

Arthur huffed a laugh. "I know. I'm trying something different."

He slipped both his thumbs into Merlin's entrance and pulled, stretching and releasing repeatedly before holding it open and aligning the head of his prick with it again. Arthur looked up at Merlin who was staring at Arthur's cock with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"Breathe out, don't hold your breath," Arthur instructed, hoping to divert Merlin's attention.

When the head of Arthur's prick breached Merlin's entrance for the second time, he stopped moving immediately, gauging the other man's reaction. Merlin's face was scrunched in pain, dark hair plastered to his forehead, body tense as a strung bow as he adjusted to the intrusion and Arthur barely dared breathe for fear of hurting him further.

When Merlin's quick, stuttering breaths showed no signs of evening out, Arthur took both pale hands in his, placed them on his chest and drew a deep breath, then exhaled and began encouraging Merlin to do the same. A moment later, Merlin's face relaxed and he cracked open an eye.

"Ready?" Arthur asked, still gently massaging every area he could reach to relax Merlin's muscles.

Merlin took a deep breath and nodded, rocking his hips and pushing against Arthur.

Arthur slid in little by little, stilling for moments at a time to give Merlin time to adjust to the painful stretch. Eventually, Arthur was balls deep in Merlin and he looked up at him, watching and waiting for his signal to continue. The dark haired man held himself up by his elbows, back arched and head back, leaving his throat exposed. Arthur couldn't resist, he latched onto the bruise he had made earlier and sucked hard, causing Merlin to mewl softly.

"Move," Merlin commanded breathily.

Arthur gently pulled out and pushed back in. Merlin whimpered in pain and Arthur's moan died in his throat. The tight heat sheathing his cock felt amazing but he knew Merlin wasn't enjoying it. Setting a slow, steady rhythm with his thrusts, Arthur distracted Merlin with light kisses all over his face. His tongue darted out and he licked away a stray tear on Merlin's cheek, now stained red with a deep blush.

The pain Merlin was experiencing slowly diminished to a dull throb and the spark of pleasure that ran through him each time Arthur angled his hips just so had him throwing his legs around Arthur's waist to keep him there. He released the threadbare sheet he had clenched in his fists and brought them back up to Arthur's hair, now slick with sweat. Merlin lost himself to the sensation of being full of Arthur while the king kissed every part of Merlin he could reach, occasionally nipping and biting lightly.

"Faster, Arthur!" he shouted.

Merlin's almost frantic voice, hoarse from cries of pleasure drove Arthur straight into a haze as he rammed into Merlin, losing himself to the feeling of tight walls rippling around him, clenching every time he pulled out as though hoping to keep him there. Arthur captured Merlin's lips in a bruising kiss and two thrusts later, he was coming deep inside Merlin.

The two collapsed heavily onto the bed and Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin's. Once he was no longer panting, the king moved to pull out but Merlin wrapped his arms around the muscular form on top of him and halted his movement. Arthur raised an eyebrow quizzically but Merlin merely smiled and so the two lay together until their breathing became steady and were soon dead to the world.

* * *

Arthur was startled awake by a loud sneeze, his nose colliding hard with… something and he pushed back. Almost immediately, the ground fell out from beneath him and he ended up on the cold, unforgiving floor. He propelled himself to his feet, alarmed by the unfamiliar environment and his gaze settled on a wide-eyed Merlin.

The manservant averted his eyes, shakily gathered a threadbare blanket around himself and began collecting the clothes strewn about the room. Merlin's actions drew Arthur's attention to his own state of undress and he grabbed at the pile Merlin had gathered, hastily dressing.

"Arthur— " Merlin blurted, at the same time that Arthur said, "Merlin—"

Merlin slowly lowered himself on to the bed, trying and failing to suppress a pained gasp.  
Eyes trained on the ground, he focused on breathing carefully, willing away the ache that reverberated through his entire lower body.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked uncertainly.

Merlin looked up, surprise crossing his features. "Yeah."

"Listen, Merlin," Arthur said slowly. "This…we can't…"

A short, mirthless laugh escaped Merlin's lips and he quickly reassembled the subservient mask he had grown to be oddly proud of. "Will you be taking breakfast in your chambers, Sire?"

"Wha—Merlin, I—This—" Arthur scrambled for the right words but realized he no longer had  
Merlin's attention. "Merlin will you look at me, damnit!"

"I am looking at you, Sire." Merlin frowned worriedly.

Arthur wanted to tell Merlin that this perfect servant he was pretending to be for some convoluted reason was more damaging than anything else, and that Arthur wanted to talk to his friend, _his_Merlin but vulnerability would not do.

The king of Camelot had no business baring his soul to anyone. The lightness he had woken with, a sensation he couldn't quite place, abruptly vanished. It was almost as though he felt complete in a way Arthur didn't know he _needed_ completing. He chalked it up to a fleeting reminder of his younger days and the excitement of a new, forbidden experience.  
Arthur squared his shoulders. "If Gaius still requires your help, send someone to carry out your duties."

Merlin expected to crumble the moment Arthur spun on his heel and disappeared through the door, and then perhaps at some point during the day when he caught glimpses of blond hair and a flowing red cloak. The tension did not bleed out of him when he finally stumbled into bed, as it usually did but he felt as though he were adrift, without Arth- an anchor and he curled up on the floor instead. Merlin wondered if the relief brought by the cold quickly seeping into him would soothe his soul as well as it did his aching muscles.

* * *

Gaius woke to the sounds of painful retching. He rose as quickly as his creaking joints would allow and moved towards the source of the sound.

"Merlin?" Gaius said softly, when the boy had stopped being sick but remained curled over the chamber pot.

"'M fine, Gai—" the rest of Merlin's response was drowned out by another round of heaving. A moment later, Merlin staggered to his feet, fell heavily onto the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Here, take this." Gaius pressed an uncorked vial into Merlin's hands and helped him guide it to his mouth, the younger man's limbs still shaking from the exertion.

Merlin made a face at the smell emanating from the small bottle but consumed it anyway. He could've sworn he felt the liquid hit his miserably empty stomach.

"Not gon' stay down," he mumbled.

"Some water might help," Gaius answered, placing a glass in front of him.

Gaius set about preparing breakfast, casting an occasional glance towards Merlin. The boy seemed to have aged rapidly over the past year and it was most apparent around the king. Worried though he was, numerous attempts to uncover the root of the problem seemed to drive Merlin further into his shell.

Merlin stirred from his slumber when Gaius placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him and he pulled it towards himself eagerly, before shoveling the food down his throat, hoping to settle his empty, cramping stomach. Merlin had only just scraped the bottom of the bowl when his abdomen lurched violently and he threw himself in the direction of the chamber pot.

Over the next week, Merlin would learn that undigested oatmeal was not, in fact, the worst substance to be throwing up. He could have sworn the inside of his throat would now be covered with scratches inflicted by dry foods, meat especially. Liquids were definitely the most disturbing, more often than not making its way out through his nose.

The inability to keep any kind of sustenance down was exhausting. Any time not spent serving the king or hearing about the piss poor job he was doing was lost to sleeping. Merlin no longer found it in him to assist Gaius in even the smallest of tasks, his lethargic fumbling more of a hindrance than anything else.

* * *

Merlin's insolence had been grating on Arthur's nerves for a while but spilling wine down his shirt in front of visiting royals was the last straw.

"Merlin," Arthur said gently, the moment they entered his chambers. "Perhaps you expected it to, but our…encounter has not changed what I expect of you as my manservant."

Merlin blanched. "N—no, Sire, I did not."

"So you don't get some perverse sort of pleasure out of making my life as difficult as you possibly can? I trust you know, Merlin that your incompetence reflects on me, your king."

Merlin's heart sank; he was _embarrassing_Arthur. He swallowed convulsively and swayed lightly on the spot. He had no excuses, this time. No tirade about how he stood by Arthur's side. Merlin almost laughed at the thought. Most mornings, he could barely hold himself up, much less carry out his duties. He was surprised when he felt anger as the now-familiar pricking at the corners of his eyes, signaling impending tears, surfaced. Whatever it was that was ailing him seemed hell-bent on stripping him of every inch of his dignity.

"I—" Merlin scrambled for the right words, fighting to suppress the warring emotions within him. "Sire, it will not happen again."

"No, Merlin, it won't. It _cannot_," Arthur said forcefully.

It dawned on Merlin that this was it. He was being dismissed and given his current state, he would probably have to return to Ealdor, never to set eyes on his king ever again. Merlin shifted his weight slightly, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Arthur darted forward to catch Merlin before he hit the ground, cradling Merlin's frail form. When his attempts to rouse the manservant failed, Arthur gathered Merlin into his arms with disturbing ease and laid him on the bed, before sending a guard to fetch Gaius.

The king studied Merlin's features, taking in the hitching breaths, the sunken cheekbones and the bruises beneath his eyes and wondered just what it was that Merlin was hiding from him.  
Gaius burst through the door and pushed Arthur out of his way before asking gruffly, "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur said softly, unable to tear his eyes away from his manservant.

"What was Merlin doing before he lost consciousness, Sire?" Gaius pressed, anxiously examining his young charge.

"We were talking," Arthur answered distractedly.

Gaius, assured that Merlin was in no immediate danger, motioned to the guards. "Get him back to my chambers."

"No!" Arthur blurted, suddenly unable to deal with the idea of Merlin being out of his sight.

Odd looks from everyone in the room had him quickly adding, "He obviously needs sleep, leave  
him be. Can you tend him from here, Gaius?"

Gaius raised an eyebrow questioningly, but said, "Yes of course, Sire."

As Gaius resumed his examination, Arthur moved to sit at the table, never once taking his eyes off his manservant and blatantly ignoring how the rise and fall of Merlin's chest seemed to have become the centre of his universe. For all his training, Arthur would not have been able to tell how much time had passed before Gaius turned to him and proclaimed it was malnutrition and exhaustion.

"Merlin will be fine, Arthur," Gaius reassured, surprised by the meek, almost childlike expression on the king's face.

Arthur nodded absently and waited for the physician to leave before pulling a chair to Merlin's bedside. He smoothed back the man's dark hair, unsure of what else to do.  
The fear that coursed through him when Merlin collapsed seemed to break something in Arthur and he was suddenly bone tired. Endlessly fighting to maintain some hold over the emotions straining to be released suddenly seemed pointless. Now, he wanted to_ feel_.

He knew he had been overworking Merlin, and that he had quite possibly been treating him worse than he had before the night they shared a bed. But he also knew that upon waking the next morning, his soul had felt raw and unguarded; he _needed_the walls behind which he hid everything that kept him from being the king Camelot deserved. Unfortunately, that included the brash behaviour that led to exactly this sort of incident.

The arduously erected barriers did not work as they usually did though, because his heart continued to alternate between aching as though yearning and swelling with joy. When Arthur realised that it seemed to depend on his proximity to his Merl—manservant, fear took over and he retaliated the only way he knew how: he pushed Merlin away, longing to be able to shutter his emotions as he usually did, because calm indifference had always served him well, no matter the situation.

Why was it, then, that although Merlin's very presence seemed to invoke the exact opposite, coaxing undignified displays of emotion to the surface, Arthur never felt better than when the younger man was around?

He didn't like how little control he had over his life and decided to consider that which was most important: Camelot. The last thing the kingdom needed was an estranged king and queen, so he channelled his efforts towards regaining Guinevere's favour. After all, they had been through a lot together and this, too, would come to pass.

At first, it had angered Arthur that Gwen seemed indifferent to his knowledge of her relationship with Lancelot, and that her husband had bedded another, but he would quickly remind himself that his wife did not know of these things. Eventually, it simply made it easier for Arthur to believe that he did not, either.

A few nights later, Arthur brought Gwen back to his chambers, intending to make love to her and, hopefully, restore balance to his life. However, the magical evening Arthur had hoped for refused to pan out and he resorted to conjuring a fantasy in his mind. It was only much later that Arthur, still drifting in a post-coital haze, realized the subject of his imagination resembled Merlin strongly enough, and Gwen's strange behaviour the following morning had the king wondering at the name that fell from his lips as he came.

Sorting through the mess in his head, Arthur came to a realization that both sent him reeling, and left him more at peace than he had ever been.

"Merlin," Arthur said as softly as possible, "I think I love you."

* * *

Merlin stumbled along, ignoring the way his stomach rebelled any kind of movement. Despite not having eaten since the day before, and not having kept much of that down anyway, he still felt like his gut was trying to make its way out through his throat. He had been walking for a while, barely aware of exactly how deep in the forest he was, but each step that led him further away from Camelot made his heart a little heavier and now it was a large lump of solid gold.

"If I die here—_when_I die here," Merlin amended, "will anyone miss me? Haven't been of much use lately, have I?"

He stopped for a moment, pondering the thought before saying, "Don't be such a _girl_, Merlin," in an almost perfect imitation of Arthur.

He had taken to speaking his thoughts aloud, knowing full well that anyone who crossed his path would think him insane, not that he was too worried; he had never felt closer to insanity in his life. He had woken, not only in Arthur's chambers, but in the royal _bed_, with no recollection of how he ended up there.

As he had hurried back to his own room, his mind was assaulted with flashes of his king _stroking_ his hair and whispering words the dark haired man could not make out. While Merlin had entertained such fantasies, they had never been so _affectionate_, and they had certainly never felt real. Even now he could feel Arthur's breath tickling his ear, the suffocating remorse and occasionally a stray tear.

Talking to himself definitely hurt far less than memories that could not possibly be.

"Would you have loved me if I _were_less of a girl?" Merlin mused.

_Love you_, said memory-Arthur.

"NO!" Merlin shouted. At his outcry, small pile of leaves in front of him went flying and he cocked his head to the side in confusion. It had been awhile since he had unintentionally cast magic but it seemed to make him _feel better_.

Flinging a hand out, he unthinkingly felled a tree and immediately regretted the unnecessary destruction, although he could not ignore the way it grounded him. Disturbed by the revelation, Merlin continued walking, telling tales of his childhood to the birds and the rabbits.

When he stopped to refill his waterskin, Merlin heard Arthur again:

_Love you, Merlin_.

He stumbled back, surprised by the clarity of the voice. "It's not real, it _can't_be real," he muttered.

But it was _right there_, and while the manservant discredited the honesty he heard in the confession, he couldn't ignore the panging of loss he recalled when Arthur withdrew his hand from where it was tangled in Merlin's hair. Pain was _always_ real.  
_I think I love you, Merlin. Love you, Merlin. Love. _

Variations of the phrase played over and over in his mind and it drove him to his knees, heaving up nothing but bile.

"Stop it, STOP IT!" Merlin pressed his palms to his temples, praying for release.

When the peace he desired did not come, he screamed in frustration, unleashing every hurt, every disappointment and every betrayal. He felt something in him break, and soon there was wind whipping against his torso, a spray of water drenching him to the bone, twigs smacking into him, scratching every bit of exposed skin.

Then suddenly it was over, and the warlock was drawn out of catharsis by a sharp cramp in his abdomen. Immediately, he came back to himself and cried in dismay at the ruin around him. Another cramp followed shortly and Merlin knew then that something was terribly wrong; he almost wished he had taken some form of medication from Gaius's stocks, but could not bring himself to steal from his surrogate father.

In an instant, he curled in on himself under the nearest tree, hoping to ward off the chill and prevent his body from tearing apart. When the pain showed no sign of abating, he began sorting through lists of herbs in his head, a task more arduous than normal with a foggy mind.

By the time he had settled on a root he was likely to find, it was too dark to look for it and Merlin was far too drained to move anyway.

* * *

"MERLIN!"

The sound of hooves hitting the ground in time with Merlin's pulse neared and the urgency in the voice calling his name must have registered at some point but the manservant's sole focus was to not move.

"Merlin, can you hear me? He's _freezing_. Are you hurt?"

_Hands. Calloused hands. _

"Arthur?" Merlin mumbled.

"He couldn't leave Camelot, but sent the finest in his place," Gwaine said with a broad grin, hoping Merlin would open his eyes.

"Mm," Merlin managed.

Gwaine sighed and moved to pick Merlin up, only to have the younger man shout in pain before throwing himself back onto the ground and curling up into a tight, quivering ball.

The knight stared in disbelief, unable to move for a split second before jolted back to reality by Leon's shout, "What happened?"

"I don't know. I think he's hurt but he won't—he won't let me touch him."

"Get a blanket," Leon said evenly, moving towards Merlin and addressing him softly.

"Merlin, it's Leon. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

A violent tremor shook the young man's form and Leon fought the urge to step back before continuing, "Can you lie flat on your back, at least? I know it's cold, but I have a blanket, and as soon as I check you over—Merlin, work with me, _please_."

At last, Merlin took a deep breath and rolled to face the knight, not loosening his hold on his knees.

"Sorry," he said hoarsely.

"What?" Leon asked, baffled by Merlin's choice of word.

"You're worried," the manservant explained.

Leon barked a laugh, "A little less now that we've found you. Come on, let me check you over."

"No! Can't move. Hurts."

"Merlin—" Leon started to protest but was cut off by a pained whimper from Merlin as a particularly strong cramp tore through him.

The decision to not cause their friend any more distress seemed to pass silently between the two knights as they quickly wrapped the brunet in the blankets they had brought, hoping to prevent him from being jostled, and began a slow trip back to Camelot.

* * *

"Merlin, you have to eat," Gaius admonished.

"It's going to come straight back up," Merlin protested tiredly, peeking up at the physician from where he lay.

"The sooner you get better, the sooner you can learn the incantation," the older man whispered urgently.

"It didn't work when you did it, Gaius. I am not skilled in healing, you know that."

"I don't understand why you refuse to even _try_!"

Merlin's voice shook slightly with the force behind his tone when he said, "What happens if it doesn't work?"

"And if it does?" Gaius countered, wondering how to convince Merlin. Before he could continue, though, he was interrupted by a loud shout.

"MERLIN!" Gwaine marched into the small room and planted himself at the foot of the manservant's bed. "Giving Gaius trouble again, are you?"

Merlin rolled his eyes and yelped in surprise when the knight yanked him to his feet and shoved him out the door.

Gaius watched the boy go with a heavy sigh, the crease in his brow, present ever since he discovered an unfamiliar structure in Merlin's abdomen, deepening. Why was the boy being so stubborn? The spell to remove the growth was simple and the fact that he could not get it to work was worrying.

It was highly likely the anomaly was the work of another sorcerer. At times, Gaius found himself almost hoping so, because at the very least, that would explain how quickly the illness progressed. He had even begun mentally putting his affairs in order, accepting that this was the will of nature and that a trip to the Isle of the Blessed would be necessary.

What worried Gaius most was the state Merlin had been reduced to. This Merlin had no desire to recover and no desire to take control of his life. This Merlin had no fire and no joy. In turn, this Merlin seemed to settle a black cloud over the castle.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, Gaius stepped out into his part of the room to find Gwaine watching Merlin as he ate. The knight had gotten rather good at telling when Merlin was simply hiding food in his mouth, and noticing how the younger man's face would drain of blood right before whatever he had been eating came back up. Merlin, on the other hand, had a foul look on his face and winced exaggeratedly every time he swallowed.

* * *

Arthur walked in on a scene he was not likely to forget any time soon: Merlin was curled around a chamber pot, clinging on to it like it was the only thing keeping him up and judging by the pallor of his skin, it was. Gwaine had his hands on the manservant's shoulders, massaging the tension out of them and while the king…_appreciated_that the object of his affection had the support he deserved, Arthur did not care for the proximity of Gwaine's mouth to Merlin's ear.

The sight before him upset him for different reasons, though. The knights, Gwen and Gaius had _all_ assured him that Merlin had been getting better and now _this_. Arthur would have liked to think he rarely visited his lov—_manservant_because he was busy, but the bitter pain of remorse he now felt told him otherwise.

The truth was that Merlin was ill because of Arthur: he had embarked into the forest half delirious from pain to _get away_ from him. What right had he to intrude into the other man's personal space? And yet, here he was, because maybe, _just maybe_, he_wasn't_imagining the way Merlin's eyes lit up every time he came around.

Catching Gwaine's gaze, Arthur slipped in behind Merlin and caught him as the knight stood. Instinctively, the brunet leaned against his king's broad form, waiting the spasms in his abdomen to either intensify or dissipate. With almost practiced ease, the blond slipped his hand under Merlin's shirt and rubbed firm but light circles across his stomach.

A while later, he said softly, "Better?"

Merlin nodded almost indistinctively, but Arthur already knew the answer to his question— asking anyway just gave the other man the perception of control right now the king felt that he would do absolutely anything to make his manservant more comfortable, right now.

Arthur held Merlin steady when he shuddered at the vile taste of the concoction that was meant to settle his stomach, coaxed him through the last few bites of what looked like water with the occasional stray grain and then followed closely behind him as he stumbled back to his room. Once the brunet was snoring tenderly, Arthur all but ran back to his chambers, falling against the door in a pose strangely reminiscent of the one he adopted upon discovering Gwen's extramarital affair.

Every moment he spent with Merlin reminded him of his failure as a king and as a person. Arthur was ashamed of how little time he spent, righting the most damaging wrong he had ever committed, but he simply did not think he would survive very much more. So he took a deep breath, steeled his nerves and got through the day.

* * *

Gaius placed a cool cloth on Merlin's forehead, resorting to the simplest of tasks now that all else had failed. He sat back and watched the strangely comforting rise and fall of the younger man's chest. It had been two days since the warlock had opened his eyes and in the days before that, inciting so much as a whimper was cause for celebration.

The illness that had plagued his boy over the last three months was almost teasing. Merlin had slowly but surely been healing, when one morning he woke with a debilitating pain in his pelvis. The splitting agony in his lower body kept his eyes fever-bright most of the time and sleep was but a memory for almost two weeks. It did pass, though, leaving strange results. The warlock's hips had widened, resembling that of a woman's. What Gaius was to make of it, he did not know.

Merlin seemed to find refuge in the presence of his king, and Arthur would send his knights to the physician's chambers for word on the boy's condition until he could find out for himself at the end of the day. Gaius was not one to pry but whatever the nature of the bond forged between the two, it seemed to better them both.

The nights Arthur could not sit with Merlin often proved to be the worst. The king would always take the next possible opportunity to burst through the doors, looking harried up until he took his leave, when his calm composure would have been restored, and the manservant's eyes lose their haunted look.

The day after the king left for the lower towns, not to return for at least a fortnight, Merlin seemed to collapse into himself and nothing would draw him out. As Gaius drifted towards an uneasy sleep that night, he found himself praying for Arthur's swift return.

* * *

Merlin woke to the sounds of shouting. "I don't _care_ what it is! Gaius, that…_thing_ is killing him!"

_Arthur_, his mind supplied and the brunet tried to raise his hand, open his eyes, anything to catch the king's attention.

"Sire, Merlin is showing signs of improvement and it pains me to see him like this but I cannot make this decision without consulting him."

"What you suggest is not possible! He is a _man_; he cannot possibly bear a child. This is not natural and we would be wise to fear the being that caused this."

"Sire—"

"No!" Arthur thundered. "Wait for him to wake if you must, but if he dies, Gaius, so help me God—"

Merlin flung his hand out, sending the jug at his bedside crashing to the floor.

"You're awake!" "How are you feeling?" "—Been out of my mind—" "—That hurt?"

"Later," Merlin said firmly, halting them both. "Explain."

"Gaius believes you carry a child," Arthur said finally.

The manservant turned to the physician, who nodded a confirmation, and then looked back at Arthur, "And you would have it killed?"

The king's jaw fell open with an audible click, before he quickly regained his composure, "_It_ is killing _you_, Merlin. Considering we don't know what it is or how this is possible, yes, I think the…obstruction must be removed."

Merlin closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.

_The cold wind whipped his hair into disarray and he stumbled back when a child elbowed him in her haste to make it home before dark. A man yelled at him for standing in the way of his cart and something heavy bounced off the back of his head._

Merlin barely noticed any of this, though, because in front of him was a young mother, cradling her child. A man had his arms around her and the babe, and while his hardened expression was possibly annoyance at the cold, the manservant saw a fierce determination to protect his family.

Could it possibly be that simple? Would an heir win Arthur's affections?

He shook his head and laughed at his childish musings before hurrying back to his chambers. The cure he was brewing could not be left unattended for long.

The memory, from the day of his and Arthur's...indiscretion, had plagued him for weeks and Gaius's suspicion seemed to put it into a perspective Merlin was sure he could have done without. The unfamiliar magical signature that seemed to radiate from within him now made a whole lot more sense. He was _with child_.

"Arthur, Gaius may be right."

* * *

Merlin wanted to be able to tell the story of Arthur holding him through every sleepless night, soothing the aches in his bones with his fingers and coaxing him to sleep with his voice for the rest of his pregnancy. He wanted to be able tell of how the king accepted who he was, and better yet, loved him for it.

The day the ban on magic was lifted and Merlin appointed Court Sorcerer would definitely provide the best ending to their adventure. Perhaps even more so than the night Arthur spent pacing the hallway, wearing a hole through the floor for lack of any other way to make himself useful as Merlin delivered their child.

Of course, he could not, for none of these events had come to pass, and probably never would, given the fury in Arthur's eyes when Merlin told him the most important tale of all: His Own.

When he was done, no words were spoken. Arthur merely spun on his heel and left, leaving Merlin to conjure flashes of an ideal future. The child was but a fleeting thought that had become reality. That he had _made_ into reality. Surely a future he had a vested interest in creating was not much harder.

* * *

A week later, Arthur walked into Gaius's chambers and sat across the table from Merlin. Every attempt the manservant made to speak was abruptly halted by a raise of his king's hand and he eventually resigned himself to waiting.

"Can you prove it?" Arthur finally asked.

"Pro—" Merlin began.

"Don't speak!" Arthur said quickly. "The night I shared your bed, these feelings I have for you, can you prove that they were not your doing?"

A pained look crossed Merlin's face and he nodded slowly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "A method that preferably doesn't involve your _dying_, Merlin."

"You want me alive," Merlin said with a small smile.

"Yes, so I can kill you myself if you have in fact been enchanting me."

Merlin thought for a moment before he began to speak, "The child I bear. It is for you. You were right, this is unnatural, and I had to know for certain that it would not bring harm. The dragon explained the spell I weaved." Arthur snorted loudly and Merlin hesitated before pressing on. "The two weeks that you left for the lower towns, it faltered because…because-I-couldn't-feel-your-love-for-me," he rushed out in one breath, blushing furiously.

"Did you say _because you couldn't feel my love for you_?" Arthur asked indignantly.

There was an awkward silence, that Merlin tried to fill with a weak impression of the other man, "Don't be such a _girl_, _Mer_lin."

Arthur did not smile. "How does that prove anything, Merlin? How do I know that anything that happens to me around you is real?"

"Because you married Gwen and I did nothing!" Merlin exclaimed, his tone bordering on desperate.

Arthur clenched his fists and forced his next words out through gritted teeth. "And how am I to know that you weren't just waiting for the right moment?"

"For all the waiting I did, I might have chosen a better moment, don't you think?"

"Right after I had just seen my wife with another man? When I was most vulnerable? Yes, terrible choice indeed, Merlin," Arthur said bitterly.

The warlock's gaze softened, "I—I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"You enchanted her too, _didn't you_?"  
Merlin's eyes widened at the accusation.

"_DIDN'T YOU?_" Arthur bellowed, grabbing Merlin by the collar and shoving Merlin against a wall, one hand against his throat, the other tugging roughly at his breeches. "You wanted me? You can have me! How do you want it? Against the wall?"

"Arthur, don't do this," Merlin begged, "_Not like this_."

The sight of his manservant's tear stained cheeks brought Arthur back to himself and he shoved away from Merlin, looking down at his hands in horror. He repeated apologies under his breath over and over, knuckles white from how hard he held his head.

As he got his breathing back under control, Merlin moved towards Arthur. "It's okay. It's _okay_."

Arthur looked up at his manservant. "Why didn't you defend yourself?" he asked, voice hoarse.

Merlin took another step towards him, and he flinched away from the outstretched hand.

"_Why?_" he pressed.

"I would never risk hurting you, Arthur."

"You would have me hurt you instead?"

A brief pause later, Merlin nodded. "Yes."

"I could cut you down where you stand, and you would do nothing to protect yourself?"

"I would do what I can to protect our child, but beyond that…yes."

"Fool," Arthur muttered, unthinkingly.

Merlin's weary retort was immediate. "Thanks for that, Arthur. Now if you don't mind, I'm still not feeling the best so I'll just go catch up on a sleep like the lazy sod I am, yeah?"

"I didn't—" Arthur began to protest.

"What? Mean that? I don't know how to convince you that I love you, and that I would never cheapen that by trying to enchant you into reciprocating, but clearly you are far more interested in ridiculing me, and since I am quite the fool, let me give you a hand!" Merlin said with mock cheer.

"Listen, would you? _I'm_the fool."

"I heard you the first time, Arthur. Don't need to repeat yourself—wait, what?"

A bark of genuine laughter escaped Merlin and Arthur thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Do elaborate," he coaxed.

In answer Arthur snapped, "Don't push it." Although there was no real heat behind his words.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, tensions ran high and the inhabitants of the castle learned to leave Merlin and Arthur's presence, the moment the two encountered each other. Neither of them knew what they were doing, with the king still very much married and Merlin a warlock in a kingdom that was once ruined by the art of magic.

Both guarded their most damaging concerns: Merlin feared he would wake and Arthur would decide yet again that their encounter was grossly inappropriate and that he, the ever faithful manservant, would merely fall in line behind his king. Arthur on the other hand, wondered if he was being manipulated by the one person he trusted and disturbingly enough, he was terrified of what would happen if the strings broke.

As the child grew within the confines of Merlin's rapidly growing abdomen, so did the hope that this was _real_. Every night before he drifted off to sleep, though, a small voice in the back of the warlock's mind reminded him that happy endings were but myths.

_**End**_


End file.
